The Blood that Flows in My Veins
by Spunksterdawg
Summary: It’s my only solace, the only thing that I can do to fall asleep at night. Well, other than Him. childhood is something both Raven and Robin never really had much of. but its never too late to catch up,now,is it?
1. Chapter 1

**The Blood that Flows in My Veins**

**I wrote a bunch of summaries for future stories I had wanted to write, but I didn't think of making it a fanfic until just now. So here I am, trying to change the plot of my original stories a little to make it Teen Titans….ish…well anyway, on with the story. **

**Chapter 1: Preface**

The blood that flows in my veins is deep red. Deeper than the blood in most people's veins. The blood that flows in my veins is evil blood—murderous blood. But the blood that flows in my veins searches desperately for hope in a changed person. The blood that flows in my veins is turning brighter—normal. It's almost there, but never will be all the way. But it's still close. I guess I'm not that different at all.

I always let the blood in my veins do the talking—literally. Trying desperately to mend my evil ways, I often cut slits in my wrist everyday—to get rid of the 'bad' blood. I know it won't _really_ help, but I don't care. It's my only solace, the only thing that I can do to fall asleep at night.

Well, other than _him_. Don't ask, it's a long story. A bit _too_ long. It get's kind of…dull after a while.

But at least it's a real reason. I'm not one of those star-struck lovers traveling the four corners to find my one true love. No. This isn't some Sleeping Beauty or Snow White tale. And really. Like anyone would fight giant dragons and beat up huge guys in shiny armor just to kiss a girl.

Why do I feel this way for _him_? I don't know, really. But you're not supposed to have a reason. _Especially_ if the reason is "He's so hot!" Please. Even an optimistic, peppy-hyper, sugar-sweet, emerald-eyed, ruby-haired, naive alien princess wouldn't use _that_ as a reason.

Not that He _isn't_ handsome—quite the contrary. He's more of a god-like person, but that's not the reason I feel for Him either.

Oh no, my reasons are much more realistic…in a strange sort of way.

_I_ like the way He breathes, the way He looks when he's frustrated but too cocky to say so. I take pleasure in watching him look for a lost gadget, losing His mind over a small metal weapon.

Of course I help Him after a while. It's just more amusing to make Him beg. Like a little puppy-dog.

I _do_ like puppy-dogs, to say the least. Probably more, but that's classified information stored away somewhere in one of the millions of file in one of the thousands of cabinets in my mind.

Do you see what He does to me? He sends me on wild goose chases, conveniently located in the folds of my mind. He doesn't _know_ that he ruffles my feathers, He just does.

Fortunately for me, I've learned to keep my mouth shut during one of these unusual blizzards of thought. It comes in very handy.

Speaking of hands, I think there's one waving in front of me.

I guess I should look up. But I think I already know who it is.

And I think I'm going to have to answer some questions.

Some questions…

…that I don't want to answer.

Spunksterdawg


	2. Chapter 2

**I hope you enjoy! ) **

**Chapter 2: 20 Questions**

_Speaking of hands, I think there's one waving in front of me. _

_I guess I should look up. But I think I already know who it is. _

_And I think I'm going to have to answer some questions. _

_Some questions…_

…_that I don't want to answer. _

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX **

The walk down the hall was awkward, not that awkward is very uncommon. Awkward is simply awkward. But then again, so is the moment after Starfire asks you to try one of her _oh so_ "delectable" Tameranean specialties.

And am I the only one to notice that they always happen to be puddings? Are they even _supposed_ to be puddings, or some weirdo concoction gone wrong?

Anyway, back to this _awkward_ scene. Is it just me, or are these lights a little dimmer…a little…creepier. But of course, creepy is a part of me, so I shouldn't be talking…or thinking, I guess.

My string of _awkward_ thoughts faded away to tiny mumbling among my emotions, and I focused on the swaying cloth of the caped crusader in front of me. I sped up to match his pace only to find him speed his up to keep the distance the same. Is he _always_ one step in front of _everyone_?

I let my eyes slide down his form from the (very high) tip of his spiky, black hair, down past his rugged shoulders, swirling ebony cape, down to the metallic ivory of his steel-rimmed shoes.

Sheesh, I bet military buffs didn't even wear shoes like _those_. The guy's got some taste.

I mean, who'd want to prance around bashing bad guys in metal clogs? No wonder his kicks hurt. I wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of _those_ silver death inducers. Although I _am_ exposed to that uniform every day of my existence. No wonder I don't drive. I've been exposed to _obviously_ harmful toxin waves from his traffic colors. How…_unique_…

The sharp clicking of his soles ceased and drew my attention back up from my bizarre reverie.

I looked up to realize I had been led to my very own room. Confused, I stared at the teenager standing before me. I'm sure a look of puzzlement was evident on my clean-cut face. Nothing to hide behind. I was positive I would have been led to some closed, confined place where no one would bother us as we "talked"—and by talked I mean Robin asking me questions and me trying to find answers. Of course they were all lies, but honesty doesn't get you very far.

I mean, "Honest Abe"? What happened to him? Some lunatic with a grudge decided to plant a bullet in his skull and the guy died painfully, if not near instantly.

And besides, you don't think _politicians_ win elections with…_truth_, right? It's just all fake promises to get a cool job and pay back all your debts by giving lousy people important jobs. And then, the entire _city_ falls apart.

But once again, _I_ shouldn't talk, because I could accidentally blow up this entire _planet_ just because someone gets me angry. That's not very promising. So I'm like the politician that doesn't give a about politics.

Oh, and blanks, they're _meant_ to be filled in, with imagination.

Robin clears his throat bringing my eyes back up to him; the thoughtful glaze leaving my irises. He nods his head towards my gray door and for once, the black letters spelling my name seem menacing. I stare at the writing until the colors seem to mix and contort with spots, and then walk to the door. It slides open and I walk into the vaguely lit area near my bed. He waits until I sit down and stares long enough for the door to close, irritated at waiting for the young hero to proceed. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven seconds of staring at the straight steel and it slides again, the tiny plastic sphere at the bottom wheeling to the right and then back to the left until the door whirs shut once more.

I simply watch him as he approaches my bed. He stops a foot short and I watch his mask, knowing he is waiting for the pupils behind to dilate. I can almost see it when they finish adjusting and scan my face for any evidence of emotion.

I foresee this, and reflect an image void of emotion while his eyes regulate to the lighting.

At first I'm not sure if he knows I'm hiding my emotions or not, because his own face is annulled of emotions, as well, but then I realize that his emotionless mask is a give away.

So is his skin.

He radiates heat and my demonic senses analyze it to be pure anger. His anger is almost…

…primal.

And it scares me, puts ice to my bones; freezes my blood, even the…_impure_ part. How can so much heat feel so…

…cold?

Shouldn't it…

…burn?

Robin…

Something of the icy-purest kind is troubling him.

I knew he was going to ask me questions when he interrupted my train of thought from this morning; causing my butt to land on the couch pillow below me. But I didn't think it would be this unusual.

I'm not getting impatient—it's worry that's clouding my thoughts. And not even worry for myself, but for Robin.

His voice breaks through the barrier of quiet, and almost startles me.

"Raven, I'm going to have to—"

**I'm so e_vile_. Muahahaha…yeeahhh……I'm not gonna force u to review, I'm just gonna say that they boost my confidence. **

**:)Spunksterdawg **


	3. Chapter 3

**I don't really know why I put humor as one of the categories, cuz it's not funny…**

**I know I'm not a very talented writer, but I like writing anyway. So sorry if the story wasn't _that_ good. **

**But thank you to those people who _did_ review. I really appreciate it. **

**¡Muchas gracias!**

**Chapter 3: Lullaby**

_His voice breaks through the barrier of quiet, and almost startles me. _

"_Raven, I'm going to have to—"_

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX**

"Raven, I'm going to have to…" His voice trails off.

My eyebrows have surely risen at his stalling. Robin _never_ stalls. It's just not done. And I mean, it's not like he's got me glaring at him wishing he were dead and boring into his soul with four glowing red eyes. You'd think he was staring death in the eyes the way he was acting.

I can feel myself growing either impatient or worried, but I can't tell which.

Whichever it is, I suddenly find myself asking him what it is he wants to say but can't find the words to.

"Robin? You need to tell me something?" He almost doesn't hear me. I know he does, because his body gives a faint twitch, a feeling of remorse radiating off of him. He has to tell me something but he doesn't know how to. Why can't he just blurt it out like Beast Boy does?

And then I realize that whenever Beast Boy just blurts something out, my feelings usually get hurt. Robin's trying to prevent that.

I don't know if that should make me furious or grateful.

I once again try to coax the words out of him.

"Rob—"

"Raven, what's going on with you?"

I'm sure my eyes have almost popped out of their sockets. The guy sure knows how to beat around the bush. But then again, Beast Boy sometimes _looks_ like a bush…

"Raven?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." His brow furrows just a bit, but enough for me to notice clearly. He's getting ticked.

"Raven, you know _exactly_ what I mean."

I hate the way he enunciates "exactly" with a hint of annoyance. Do I annoy him? Before I realize it, the strangest thing comes out of my mouth. Something I haven't even thought about in a while.

"Do you miss your parents?" The question comes out sounding so innocent, the way a young child would ask. But there is also a strange maturity to its softness. Even I didn't sense it coming.

He feigns a brave expression, like nothing bothers him, but I know he's been hurt by that sentence. I can feel him shaking so violently with sorrow—only on the inside, but he's struggling, _just _managing to keep it in.

"Robin." I mean to say his name in more of a question, but it comes out like a statement. But somehow, it sounds better that way; more appropriate.

I don't mean him any harm, but it must be done. "Robin, do you miss your parents?"

He feels scorn towards me for a brief second, but it is soon replaced with innocence.

And I don't mean innocent until proven guilty. I mean the pure innocence of a child. The innocence a child has when you ask him if he misses his parents, and you know that he's trying not to burst out crying. I indulge in it. It's so warm in the purest way. He is sad, but the innocence adds the most heart-wrenching warmth to it. That warm coat—that's how Robin tames his sorrow. That's how he keeps it from controlling him.

And I do something even stranger than asking him that question.

I hug him.

In one graceful swoop, my body leaves my bed, walks silently over to him, and then my arms wrap around his neck. I pull him close to my body and I feel his surprise. But he's not pulling away. That's a good sign.

I feel his body stiffen even more, and then suddenly relax—the way a wounded soldier would die in battle.

There's still the faintest hint of a line, that is screening his tears away. It's barely there, but it's there nonetheless.

"Robin, it's okay to cry."

And with that said, he bursts out crying—like a young child.

His arms, which until now lay limp by his sides, pulled themselves up and wrapped themselves around me. I feel his hands around my back, but he's just so mentally tired that they fall to my waist. I don't really feel it; I just slightly register it in my mind and move on. His whole body quivers, only this time, on the inside _and_ the outside.

I pull his head in closer to my shoulder, and I stand there, a strange maternal feeling washing over me. I ruffle his hair with my fingers, and I gently pat his back. he loosens completely, and I know that the barrier that just broke will need many repairs before it can function again.

That barrier—it's been washed away with the tears. I feel bad for destroying his work, but this team already has one emotionless member. We don't need another one.

I look down at him, and I see his tears flow less heavily. He hiccups once and then his breathing returns to normal. I feel his knees give out, and he slinks to the blue-gray carpeting. He tries to hold on to me to steady his wobbly legs, but he's too weak, and they slide underneath him. Right now I don't care for valiance; or anything for that matter. So I let him slide to the floor, I, myself in tow.

I plant my knees firmly in the cushiony carpet and I kneel before him; one hand still on his back. His knees have already given out, and he uses his elbows to keep himself from falling. Gut yet again, they collapse underneath him, and he falls completely to the floor. He curls up just a little and reaches for my hand.

Right now, Raven and Robin aren't there. No, right now, Robin is the child, and I, I am the gentle mother. Seeing Robin so broken apart, so shattered and reaching for me like an infant has brought no shame or disgrace to his name. No. To me, he is still the fearless leader, and to everyone else…they don't need to know.

I slide one arm underneath his neck and around his shoulders, and the other arm reaches over across his back. I fold my legs beneath me, and I pull his head into my lap. I move his body closer to mine, and stroke his neck.

Using my powers, I make sure the door is locked so no one can come and bother him. He's too fragile right now. So I let him hold my hand close to him as the other strokes his body.

I sing an Azarathian lullaby in the softest tone. I feel Robin loosen even more, succumbing to the foreign words. I can sense him falling into a dreamless, but peaceful sleep.

I feel his body go limp and his breathing even out and I know he's asleep. I count the moments; one, two, three, four; before his tired mind begins recuperating.

He's completely asleep, but I keep singing anyway. The song has a sad tune, so serenely beautiful in its mourning that it has an eerie peacefulness to it.

A flick of my Azarathian powers, and the songs turns into a spell. My hands glow milk-white; so pure and contradictory to my black telekinesis.

I bring my glowing hands together in an Azarathian hand sign and the power strengthens. I perform the final step by bringing my hands—still in formation—to my red chakra. It glows as creamy-white as my hands and the magic bonds completely—the telltale sign that my power is of the purest kid—and I lower my hands. I break them from the hand-position and I lower them still.

I only stop when they are just above the skin of the hero's forehead. Then, with my palms facing the boy, I let my energy flow into his mind.

The shattered barrier rebuilds slowly but surely. I fall into a meditative sort of state, and my body soon levitates above the floor.

My voice is still singing, singing that ghastly, bittersweet melody, singing each word with perfect accent. I am in a subconscious sort of state, so to me, the singing sounds hollow and faded. I feel myself slipping more and more into an unconscious state of mind, and all I see is the milk-white cream wrapping its opaque veils around me. The singing sounds so soft to me now—like the voice of a dying child. I slip more and more into my condition and the white turns gray, and from gray to a darker shade.

And soon the gray turns black.

**When I was writing this chapter, I could hear the sad tune, and I just made it up, but it sounds so sad and sweet in a scary horror movie sort of way. I hope you liked this chapter, because it was a lot of fun to write. **

**Spunksterdawg**


	4. Chapter 4

**I hope you liked the last chapter, cuz I liked writing it. Thanks for the reviews. I don't have many, but it's still enough to keep me going. So on with the story. **

**Chapter 4: **

_My voice is still singing, singing that ghastly, bittersweet melody, singing each word with perfect accent. I am in a subconscious sort of state, so to me, the singing sounds hollow and faded. I feel myself slipping more and more into an unconscious state of mind, and all I see is the milk-white cream wrapping its opaque veils around me. The singing sounds so soft to me now—like the voice of a dying child. I slip more and more into my condition and the white turns gray, and from gray to a darker shade. _

_And soon the gray turns black. _

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX**

My eyes open to the ceiling of my room. My hands push up against my sheets and comforters, my hair splayed around my head on a cushiony pillow.

I push myself into a sitting position and then slide my legs off the edge of my bed. I look around the room. No sign of Robin's presence ever being in the room, but I knew otherwise.

I reach to pull my hood up but grab only air instead. Surprised, I look around to find my cloak laying folded and neat on one of my bookshelves. I walk over to it, and pull the material around my figure. I clasp the circular buckle and straighten the cloak so it fit perfectly. I flick my wrist, and the bed returns to it's neatness—pillows perfectly straightened, sheets wrinkle-free, and comforter tugged straight at all corners.

I feel extremely tired; I must've been healing Robin for at least an hour. That took a lot of power out of me, and so on slightly wobbly legs I walk to the door. I step out and head towards the common room of the building. I stop before the large main doors, and straighten my weak legs and feign a healthy appearance. I finish, and allow the metal barrier to slide open, revealing a bustling room. I step in and walk over to the kitchen to grab a bag of my herbal tea.

Instead I find the readymade cup of liquid staring up at me, steaming and all. I raise an eyebrow, but accept the cup anyway. I go and sit at the table to fine Robin sitting on the opposite side of my favorite seat. I sit down nonetheless and sip the warm fluid. I stare at the delicate handle of the cup and run my pointer around the rim of the colorless porcelain.

I feel Robin's eyes on the cup as well, watching my finger run around the perimeter of the teacup.

I look up to meet Robin's gaze. Not a word spoken, but a mutual understanding. Just for the purpose of speaking, Robin asks me how I slept.

"I slept wonderfully" I reply him nonchalantly, but I can tell he knows otherwise.

"No, I'm serious. How'd you sleep?"

"I slept pretty well for the most part. I'm just kind of tired."

"Raven?"

"Hmm?"

"I love you." I know he doesn't mean it exactly like "I love you". He means it the way a child would say he loves his mother.

Beast Boy, hearing the comment the way most people would, spits out his soy milk and stares, wide-eyed, at us. He pokes Cyborg in the back and whispers the sentence in his ear.

In reply, Cyborg spits out his milk, dropping the metal fork from his hand. Starfire, who is feeding Silky, is oblivious to the reaction.

Cyborg, taking the brotherly role, asks, "Ummm…are y'all an item, or something?"

Neither Robin nor I answer; we just continue drinking our beverages—for me, herbal tea; for Robin, coffee.

Cyborg and Beast Boy exchange glances before further prodding for answers.

"Heeeelloooo? Raven, Robin just told you he loves you! Some kind of reaction _would_ be normal!" Beast Boy was growing frantic in his vain attempts to draw an answer from Raven.

"I'm not normal, remember?" I do not sound harsh, but Beast Boy takes it personally and slinks to the side to allow Cyborg to continue the interrogation.

Deciding to give me a break from the bombardment of questions, Robin says, "Cyborg, I don't actually _mean_ that I _love_ her love her."

"Ya think ya can mess with ma little sister by messin' with her emotions!"

I sigh. Sometimes, Cyborg is just a bit _too_ brotherly.

Robin settles on ignoring Beast Boy and Cyborg and asks me if I'm alright.

"Ya, Robin, I'm fine"

"No, you're not. Come on, what's wrong?"

"Drop it, Robin." I feel him growing irritated, but he pushes it back down. I don't know why, but that suddenly makes me proud, so I yield to his questioning.

"Come to my room after breakfast, and we can talk, okay?"

"Sure."

I finish my drink and walk over to the sink. I rinse the liquid from the ivory-colored teacup, dry it with a soft towel, and return it to its spot in the cupboard. I then walk out the large doors without a single backwards glance.

I force myself to make it to my room before collapsing on the floor. I cry into the plushy material of the carpet. I let my sobs water one area of the floor before pulling myself together. I allow my body to release a final shudder before calming down. I make no move to get up off the floor. I don't care if Robin sees me this way. I can't be the adult _all_ the time. I lie on my side, curled up in a loose ball, staring blankly.

A single thought, and my black aura makes its way to the tine cutting knife I keep in one of my spell books. The silver blade makes its way to my skin and another thought causes it to make a thin cut in the pale, ashen flesh. A line of red makes its debut, its color contrasting against my pale skin. The color is a little lighter than last time—the sign that my father's grip on me is fading. I hear footsteps approaching my door, so I wipe the tiny knife, replace it back in one of my tomes, and roll the sleeve of my leotard down.

I still make no move to sit up straight, and I hear the footsteps stop in front of my door. I already know who it is, so I open the door with my magic and he walks in.

Robin walks over to me and lies down next to me on his side, facing me.

"What are you doing on the floor?"

I refuse to answer, because for once, I don't have a real reason.

"Raven, is everything alright?"

"Robin, I love you." Robin emits feelings of concern at my words, failing to understand why I repeat the sentence he, himself had earlier said.

"I already know that, Raven. I love you, too."

"No, Robin, I really love you." Robin gets it now, and his eyes widen behind his mask in shock.

"Raven, I…" He trails off hoping I have something to help him get the words out.

But unlike most people, I do not interrupt him. There are some things I have to stay out of. This is one of them.

"Raven, I…I…" He looks at me with pleading eyes, begging me to understand. And I do understand, I just _need_ to hear it from _him_.

"Robin, I need you to say it. I just _have_ to hear you say it."

Robin sighs, not knowing why he can't get these simple words out. And then his eyes widen in realization. I smile, knowing very well what he is thinking.

"I'm having so much trouble saying this, because they _aren't_ simple words. **_I_** am an open book, but **_love_** is so complex and so are **_you_**. _That's_ what makes it so hard."

"But you just said them," I inaudibly whisper to myself. I smile, now knowing with bliss what his lips are about to utter.

"Raven, I love you."

"I love you, too, Robin." I smile, and he smiles at me in return. He's so elated that he got those words out that it blows off of him like smoke on a windy morning.

I suddenly burst out crying. I'm just so sad, so tired. I start singing the lullaby between sobs. Robin slides over to my other side and wraps his strong arms around my form. He pulls my body close to his and I feel so small compared to him. I pull myself closer to him, and I curl up against his chest. He holds me so tight that I feel secure for the first time in my life. My sobs strengthen and so he tightens his grip on me. To him, I am the one item he can't relinquish, and it makes me feel so full and complete. I scrunch up as tight as I can, and he scrunches tightly around my shape.

We stay like that for hours, unmoving except for the shuddering of my body as I quiver with tears. No sound, except for the piercing sound of my lullaby. No feeling, except for his arms around my body; his hands resting on the skin just below my chest. No taste except for the taste of my recently ingested herbal tea. No sight except for the purple of the hair falling into my eyes. No scent, except for Robin's intoxicating aroma.

Robin slips his shoes off, and pulls mine off. Then he reaches for the clasp of my cloak, and undoes it so the blue cloth falls wilted at my sides. He pulls it off of my body, taking extra care when pulling out from underneath me.

He leans over my shoulder to plant a soft kiss on my neck, and then moves from his tight-knit position. My singing gets softer and softer, as I fall more and more asleep, swimming in his aroma, and letting it wash me like the waves of the ocean around our home.

I feel strong, gloved hands push themselves underneath my body—one under my neck, and one under my knees. Then, I feel myself rising and moving. I feel my arms wrap themselves around his muscular shoulders. The moving stops and the hand under my neck removes itself to pull back the cover of my bed. It returns a moment later and I hear Robin get onto the bed, the springs giving the faintest of squeals under the extra weight. I feel Robin fold his legs beneath him Indian style and I feel myself lowered into his lap. I feel himself rotate around me and then lie down, letting his head rest on the plushy pillow. He uses one hand to hold my head up as he settles down. He finishes, and then lowers my head onto his chest. I snuggle closer to him and pull my legs close to my chest. He pulls my body up more, and then pulls the covers around both our bodies. He plays with my hair, and I hold onto the pointer of his hand.

Half-asleep, I tug at the fabric of his gloves until the material falls loose of his hand. I hold the severed glove to my chest with one hand, and the other continues to grip the pointer of his now-exposed hand. He briefly grabs my hand, brings it to his lips and plants the most tender of kisses on the smooth skin below my wrist. Instead of going back to my previous position on his hand, my hand reaches for his neck, and with my last bit of sense before falling asleep once more, I snuggle tighter against his body and sigh.

**I hope you liked it. I don't really have anything other than that to say, really. **

**Spunksterdawg**


	5. Chapter 5

**I got a few reviews for chapters 3 and 4, so I'll start ch 5. I wrote ch 3 and ch 4 at the same time, and then decided to call it quits for the day, but confidence boosters are just so…confidence boosting! So I decided to NOT call it quits for the day, and continue writing the story. **

**Chapter 5:**

_Half-asleep, I tug at the fabric of his gloves until the material falls loose of his hand. I hold the severed glove to my chest with one hand, and the other continues to grip the pointer of his now-exposed hand. He briefly grabs my hand, brings it to his lips and plants the most tender of kisses on the smooth skin below my wrist. Instead of going back to my previous position on his hand, my hand reaches for his neck, and with my last bit of sense before falling asleep once more, I snuggle tighter against his body and sigh. _

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX**

Robin is still there when I wake up. It's nighttime, and dinner's almost ready—I can smell the unusual mix of tofu and meat making its barely noticeable presence.

I just realize I can hear his heartbeat, feel the wave-like motion of his chest rising and falling at a steady pace. It's so synchronized I find myself trying to match it. I just manage to send my body into the same formation when Robin's voice rings out, drawing my attention away from even paces, to his face.

"You're so cute when you're sleepy." I don't know what he can possibly mean by that—I'm not very pretty.

"Huh? What're you talking about, Boy Wonder?"

"I mean, you're just so cute." He was using a tone you would use to tell a puppy that it's cute.

"Hey, I'm no puppy!"

"I'm sorry. But you _are_ a cutie."

"Yeah, yeah, save it for the 'All Things are Cute' Festival."

"Alright, I will. But when it comes to town, you'd better be ready, 'cuz you're going to be the main showcase."

"Puh-lease. Give me a break."

"What's the magic word?" Great. Now he was talking to me like a kindergartener.

"_Please_ give me a break." I tried to sound as bitter as possible, and it worked, but Robin knows I'm only joking.

"Alright, but only because you asked nicely."

"Hmph."

I got up from my position, which lay precariously, and just above a rather unfortunate spot for my fearless leader. I removed myself from his body and waited on the side for Robin to get up.

Once he was up and ready, I fixed the bed with my mind and headed for the door. But before I could reach my destination I was blocked by the one, the only Boy Blunder.

"What do you want now?" I feigned an angry expression which he feigned to be hurt by.

"No Thank you kiss?" My eyes widened in shock. I felt so pathetic—I had never kissed anyone before, and I hadn't really thought about it. Nothing like this has ever happened to me before.

"Well, you see…the thing is….ummm…well, I mean….I haven't really…you know…you _know_…" He chuckles at my inability to state that I'd never kissed anyone before. My brows furrow in a tight-weave expression of annoyance at his chuckle. I have never been one to take mockery hands-down. I don't give anything up without at least some kind of fight. I just _have_ to have my two-bits worth.

"What's so funny!" Anger must be clearly obvious on my face, for he stops laughing a little.

Looking up at him, I never realized how he was just a bit taller than me. Even without his gung-ho military combat boots he was at least three inches taller than me.

Being as deep in thought as I was, a person wouldn't notice how Robin leaned down about three inches, or how his face had moved about half a foot closer, or realized that the gap between us was rapidly vanishing—as though there were a magician controlling time and distance. And, being as preoccupied as I was, one would not notice how Robin's breath was getting warmer and warmer as distance was doing us together.

If one was as thoughtful as I was in that moment, one would not notice a single sign until Robin's lips brushed against mine. Just slightly, mind you, but being caught so off-guard like that made me feel…well…off-guard.

Sensing that I had finally become aware of his actions, Robin deepened the kiss by pressing his lips closer to mine. It was a regular kiss, nothing special.

And then I realized he was waiting for _me_ to make the first real move. At last realizing this, I reluctantly press against him. My feet find their way towards his. My arms find their way around his neck. I stand on my tip-toes, the digits pushing me up more. His arms make their trek towards my waist, and one of them supports my back and brings my body closer to his. Choosing to give me a break, his tongue runs the length of my lower lip, requesting entrance. I yield, and allow him to explore. Then I take my own turn in his mouth. I press harder against his throat, drawing a surprised gasp from Robin. My arms ascend enough for my fingers to tangle themselves in his spiky ebony hair. Robin's arm around my waist falls just slightly, and the other arm reaches up so his hand can intertwine with my indigo locks. I feel his fingers interweave with the lilac tresses, and his palm collides with a soft touch to my neck. Deciding he would be in control again, he pressed harder against my mouth, dragging a moan from my throat. I press harder against him, and he presses harder against me. We're in a battle for control. I laugh between kisses, and he pulls me back in.

Finally I allow him to gain control over me, and I succumb to his touch, as one hand runs up and down my back. the other one falls slightly lower still, and the palm of his hand places itself underneath my butt to pull me closer to him. Soon I stop trying altogether, and I close my mouth, cutting off all access to my tongue. He stops and looks at me slightly crestfallen. But I shake my head at him, and he accepts temporary defeat.

I feel almost embarrassed now. Robin doesn't seem fazed in the least, so I allow the tint of pink to fade away to my normal skin tone. I try to speak, but no words come out. So instead I mouth the words thank you. He simply smiles back at me, and I realize that he is so childish. He looks up to me and sees me as a mother; someone to respect and obey, but love unconditionally. And that's how I like it. I like being the mature one. It suits me well, I think. I like the maternal feelings that wash over me when I'm around him. I feel like I have to protect him. I feel like he's a delicate flower whose petals could blow away in the wind. I know it's not true, but he has a certain childish fragility to him—an innocence of the most golden kind. When I'm with Robin, I feel like missing a childhood doesn't matter in the least. And it doesn't. I feel no remorse, nor yearning. The absence of a childhood doesn't bother me in the least. That's what makes it more special when I'm with him. He makes me feel like I need to hold his frail body close to me.

We compliment each other. I lost a childhood. He lost his parents. I play the role of the parents he could never have, and seeing him makes me feel like I haven't missed a thing. And I haven't. I love all the childlike fantasies. I'm like the baby that just learned to crawl around the house. I love to watch flowers blow in the wind. I may be half demon, but I feel strong motherly instincts towards anything fragile and childlike. It makes me want to cry; but I don't know if it's with sorrow or happiness. But I like being so complex. I'm not a teenager, no. I may be sixteen, but I'm a woman. Not a young woman. I'm a woman. And I like it that way.

I finally find my voice.

"Robin?" My voice reaches his ears with that strange motherly tone.

"Hmm?"

"I'm a woman."

**I don't know why, but as I was writing this one, I had lost my writing mood. Ya see, I get these 'moods' where the writing just comes to me naturally. When I'm not in one of these 'moods' I can't write very good. So I'm sorry if this chapter stunk. Most people make it where Robin is the brave, strong one, where Raven is the fragile one. But this time I'm switching it. I never would have thought of it, but the story was practically screaming it, so I just put it in. and oddly enough, nothing seems wrong with having Raven be the mature one and Robin so broken and weak. But w/e. I'm not gonna force u to review, but like I said, they boost my confidence. **

**Spunksterdawg**


	6. Chapter 6

**NOTE I NEVER PUT UP AUTHOR'S NOTES UNLESS I ABSOLUTELY NEED TO. AND RIGHT NOW I NEED TO. SO READ THIS.**

**I have absolutely no ideas right now. I need you guys to give me a whole bunch of ideas for my story—and fast, otherwise I'll fall out of my 'writing moods'. I'm forcing myself to rite part of ch 6 so I don't fall out of it until I get more ideas. **

**SO W/E YOU DO, GIVE ME A WHOLE BUNCH OF IDEAS, AND I'LL PICK ONE THAT I LIKE. **

**And tell me what you guys think of Raven and Robin having a fight? **

**Tell me what you think of that. **

**SO PLEASE HELP ME!**

**I BEG OF YOU!**

**(O . O)**


	7. Chapter 7

**FIRST OF ALL: I'm soooo sorry for the wait, but I had a writing block (as u kno), and I had hw from every teacher for every day of this week. I _just_ managed to finish quick enough to get sum time to rite the next chapter. **

**SECOND OF ALL: I'd like to thank my (non-fanfic-registered-or-at-least-i-don't-think-so) friend, Maggie, for supporting my story nd telling me to update. **

**THIRD OF ALL: I'm listening to every kind of song there is rite now, so my writing might change moods throughout the chapter. **

**FOURTH OF ALL: OMG I LUV U MINA! I dedicate this chapter to: Furubafun24. Ur review is being used for my next few chapters. So THANKS!**

**FIFTH OF ALL: For those who didn't get the "woman" part, (namely Tecna), I meant that…well I don't really kno wut I meant by that, but mostly that she may have lost a childhood, but that makes being a woman all the better for her. I also meant that she has wut define most true women—motherhood. So wut I meant by that she was a woman was that she was like Robin's surrogate mother in a strange, yet loving kinda way. Does that cover it? If not, just leave me a review telling me wut u didn't get. But for now, READ ON!**

**Chapter 6: Reprehensible**

_We compliment each other. I lost a childhood. He lost his parents. I play the role of the parents he could never have, and seeing him makes me feel like I haven't missed a thing. And I haven't. I love all the childlike fantasies. I'm like the baby that just learned to crawl around the house. I love to watch flowers blow in the wind. I may be half demon, but I feel strong motherly instincts towards anything fragile and childlike. It makes me want to cry; but I don't know if it's with sorrow or happiness. But I like being so complex. I'm not a teenager, no. I may be sixteen, but I'm a woman. Not a young woman. I'm a woman. And I like it that way. _

_I finally find my voice. _

"_Robin?" My voice reaches his ears with that strange motherly tone. _

"_Hmm?" _

"_I'm a woman." _

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX**

Dinner went by rather curiously. Cyborg had ordered the _Meaty Meat Lover's Special_ for his pizza, cheese for me, cheese and pepperoni for Robin, and bananas, pickles, and mint frosting for Starfire (along with a side order of mustard). But nothing but a _Meaty Deal_ pizza for Beast Boy. Naturally, Beast Boy revolted against the vile act. He tried to kick Cyborg with as much as guts as he could muster, and ended up kicking himself in the face, instead. Of course everyone else laughed at him, but Starfire mistook it for a surprise invasion from the 'Martian pigs'. Growing frantic, she fired her starbolts in despair and blew a hole straight through the middle of Cyborg's _Meaty Meat Lover's Special_ Pizza. At this (which Cyborg didn't realize to be Starfire), he blamed the green titan, who received yet another blow in the face. Beast Boy tried to punch Cyborg again, and this time succeeded, but ended up nearly crippling his hand against Cyborg's metal exterior.

So now Beast Boy was warming up his tofu, and Cyborg was ordering another pizza for himself. Starfire was switching between apologizing to Beast Boy and Cyborg for her misunderstanding.

Leaving just Robin and myself—not a good thing.

I need to say this. I saw him the other day. Well, heard him, first. Talking to Starfire. He's…lonely. Nothing more than that. Nothing short of it. I'm not really anyone; I'm a teddy bear, his comforting committee.

Obviously, he went to Starfire seeking consolidation from the Tameranean. And so the young woman listened with an open mind and heart to his lonesomeness and gave her words of reassurance to the boy. Starfire did nothing wrong. She just listened to his words, unaware of her leader's ongoing relationship with me.

And a kiss ensues—on Starfire's part. The way hugs from me mean absolute condolence, a gentle kiss means the same for Starfire. Because of this, I feel no rage, no jealousy towards the sweet girl. She has no clue of the association between him and me and it's just an act of kindness.

But when Robin returns the kiss, I know something has suddenly gone amiss. It's not a real movie kiss, but it's still a kiss. Doesn't he remember that _I'm_ who he claimed to have loved?

Apparently not, for he deepens the kiss, only to have Starfire to pull away. The girl is not as naïve as I thought, so it surprises me when she says:

"Have not you promised the 'forever' with Raven?" And the quizzical look and the way she cocks her head shows that she's bemused.

The next sentence comes as an even greater surprise—but for vastly differing reasons. "I never said that, Star." I feel the muscles holding my mouth slack, and my jaw drops. I could almost _love_ Starfire for her next sentence:

"But Robin, you have promised Raven something deep, and I will not intrude no matter what. I love Raven like a sister, and I would never harm her." She pauses, and her eyes assume a lime green shade of fury. "And if _you_ do anything to harm her, I will show you what I am capable of! You _will_ not harm Raven!" Robin raises his hands in defense. And Starfire resumes a normal stance.

"So…you _don't_ like me?" Starfire sighs, and her eyes lose their emerald glow.

"I do, Robin, but Raven is—" Robin cuts Starfire off and I feel my heart breaking from the inevitable line he is about to utter.

"Starfire, I love you." Starfire's eyes widen to double their size. "You…do? But what about Rav—" "Don't worry about Raven."

Starfire lowers her eyes to the floor, and not lifting them up answers Robin. "Robin you are lonely, not in love." Robin's eyes widen, and he realizes the naïve teenager is right in her perception.

"So…" Starfire sighs once more, and raises her eyes to meet the boy's mask. "No, Robin, I will not let myself love you. Goodbye." And with that said, she turns around and out the door, leaving the internally bewildered teen at a complete loss for words.

I feel Robin's eyes on me, and his gaze breaks me from my reverie, and unknowingly brings me back to the task at hand.

"Robin what are you doing here?" the question comes out seemingly pointless—worthless beneath the more primary priorities of the world. But any fool would know.

"I live here. Why?" My eyebrows furrow with obvious disappointment at his failure to recognize the seriousness—I really need to meditate.

"Robin, you know exactly what I mean. Why are you here, with me? Why are you doing this to yourself? Why are you with me, in love with me, _why are you here_?" Pregnant pause; loaded silence. "Why do you love me? What did I do to deserve this? Why is it that I'm so afraid of your love? I don't need you or want you, not like this! _Why do you **love **me_? I'm not beautiful, I'm not open, I'm a freak! _Why not go out with Starfire_?" That specific sentence comes out so deeply bitter. "Why does it have to be me?" All eyes on me, but my senses fail me—I fall into oblivion.

My voice falls to a deathly whisper now. Robin leans forward to grasp the barely audible words. "I'm not beautiful. And you have no reason to love me. I don't want love if it's for the sake of loneliness. If I was beautiful? Would you love me for anything more than that? If it's inner loneliness…I don't want love like that. Just…leave me alone."

"What are you talking about?" The numbness evaporates from my senses and I can detect a hint of annoyance and anger in his voice.

I, myself, find the slightest suggestion of anger making its presence clear. I feel anger consuming me, and I try to run away from the piercing stares of my peers. But anger is already within my mind, and I can see Logic scrambling away in fear. Anger touches my ever corner, filling every nook and cranny and space and gap. Anger's power grows, and I find the barren wastelands of Nevermore inundated in crimson red.

Robin gets up and yells at me.

"I don't even know what you're talking about!"

"Oh really, now?" My voice is changing slowly, more, as Anger rapidly gains power.

"Yeah. You're a nutcase, you know that, Raven? I don't know why I even liked you to begin with!"

"You _don't_ love me! You just need someone to hold onto, someone to talk to. Get a therapist if you need that, not me!" Robin falls silent. He's not stupid, he can take a hint. And some hint _that_ was.

"Do you get it! Do you _finally_ get it? What were you doing, playing with me! Robin, you're a jerk—a cold, heartless, selfish jerk if you think you can do that to someone."

"Rav—" I hear the sorrow in his voice, the yearning to apologize—he knows he's done wrong. But I'm not finished. Not yet.

"And one person isn't enough for you? You think that you can go and do that to _Starfire_! You _know_ she's still getting accustomed to Earth ways, and you _still_ go and try to play with her heart?" At this point, tears begin their path down my ashen skin, and Anger has been locked up by my other emotions.

Starfire's surprised gasp is perceptible, and Beast Boy lays a hesitant hand on her shoulder.

Cyborg just stands there; immobilized by the events taking place before his devastated eyes.

"Raven, I'm—"

"Save it, Wonder Boy! I don't _care_ what you have to say. Not right now. I'll probably care later on, but _not right now_."

Robin reaches an arm out to grasp my cloaked shoulder, but I step away before he gets the chance. I pull my hood up over my head, as if to protect myself from my pained heart. I almost feel bad for him, because it was confusion that led him in this predicament. But his _own_ confusion, so I remain steadfast in my decision.

Robin knows better than to speak now, he knows he's done something unforgivable in every moral sense.

I feel Robin's gaze on my retreated back as I head for the main doors. His gaze doesn't even break as the doors close behind me, and I can feel his sight on me as though he can see through the solid metal.

I feel the tears stream down my face again, and I collapse to the hallway carpeting. I allow myself to melt into the floor and reappear in my room.

I run for the thickest of my Azarathian tomes and pull the tiny cutting knife from its obscured location. I bring it to the weak and less concealed area of skin underneath my wrist; my palms facing up.

I let the cool blade touch my skin, and I briefly indulge in the calm coolness of the metal. The moment dissolves, for the heat of my skin thaws out the coolness of the steel, and I continue with the undertaking before me. In one quick motion, I swipe the sharp edge over my skin, which relents with ease. I watch in fascination, almost, as the small creek of scarlet liquid trickles over the curve of my arm and dives, without a second thought to the carpet below.

I observe as the material of the carpet absorbs the fluid, leaving only a red tarnish.

I draw my eyes from the stain on the floor and make my way to my bed. I stare at the sheets, the pillows, the cover, with disgust. They have been dirtied with His filth, and I never want to see it again.

I pull the thick comforter off, and throw it in a jumble on the floor. Next I throw the pillows, making sure they fall out of the pillowcases—I need to ventilate my anger. After that, I rip the clean, blue-gray sheets from the rim of the bed and pulling the entire mass off, I throw it to the floor, where it lands recklessly above the pile of discarded bedding.

I heave myself at the exposed mattress and sob uncontrollably. Now I feel guilty for 'hurting' the innocent bed linens. But I refuse to touch them. So instead I pull my knees closer to my chest and hug them to my body.

I once again allow my form to weld into the ground and re-emerge on the roof.

I feel my body re-form on the roof, and I instantly know I'm not alone. Nervously, I turn my head, but it's just Starfire.

I float next to her and permit my butt to land unceremoniously, yet quietly to the cool cement below me. She is sitting with her shins hugged to her chest, her arms around her thin legs, her chin resting on her knees. Without turning her head, she speaks.

"Friend Raven, I had no part in Robin's hurting you. I—"

"I know, Star. I heard you and Robin the other day." An awkward, but tolerable silence. "Thank you."

Starfire turns her head to me and smiles as her way of saying 'you're welcome'.

I find myself absently reaching out to her, and my arms envelop the flabbergasted girl in a hug. Without a moment's hesitation, however, her arms return the hug.

"I think of you as my sister, too." I smile at her, and she returns the act of kindness.

She turns her head back to face the sunset and I take the time to fully absorb her image, and for the first time I realize just how deeply beautiful she is. I never appreciated her for what she really was, but there's no point in apologizing now—I'm past that stage in my life.

So I turn my own head back to the sunset, and I stare blankly.

Finally, I fold my legs beneath me and levitate in the air. I chant my mantra of "Azarath, Metrion, Zinthos" out loud, and I don't need to open my eyes to know Starfire has just pulled herself into the lotus position. My prediction is affirmed when I hear her voice ring out next to mine, her mouth relaying the sacred mantra out loud, and I feel better.

**o. m. g. I finally wrote this chapter! I didn't think I was ever going to, but it feels so good now. Thank you soo much to all of u guys, but I hope I don't lose my writing mood. And don't hate me for Robin being a lamo; all will be enlightened in the following chapters. **

**Til then, I bid u adieu. **

**Spunksterdawg**


	8. Chapter 8

**I was gonna rite a one-shot for the heck of it when I opened up word on my computer. But then I decided to write the next chapter for the story. Not much else to say. Read. **

**Chapter 7: Equanimity**

_Finally, I fold my legs beneath me and levitate in the air. I chant my mantra of "Azarath, Metrion, Zinthos" out loud, and I don't need to open my eyes to know Starfire has just pulled herself into the lotus position. My prediction is affirmed when I hear her voice ring out next to mine, her mouth relaying the sacred mantra out loud, and I feel better._

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX**

"Hey, Star?"

"Yes, Raven?"

"Would you like to go for a swim?"

"Why, certainly."

We had made the rooftop our new hangout. We would spend our time meditating, thinking or absently staring, liberated of thought.

Robin was a thing of the past. Well, for Starfire. She didn't care; she hadn't allowed Robin to harm her. And yet, I had. For some insane reason, I almost felt that if I spent more time with Starfire, some of her unusually committed and steadfast invulnerability would rub off on me.

And so it would be that Starfire and I would go for a warm, summertime morning swim.

The absoluteness of the dawn's silence suited our meditation well. During the day, it was as if the morning's accompanying solitude and meditation had not afflicted us in the least, and we both seemed to believe it.

With that in mind, I stripped myself of the cerulean cloak around my form and removed the matching azure boots from my feet, allowing my bare toes to indulge in the crisp morning sun. Starfire followed suit by removing the silver glove-like pieces from her slender arms, doing the same with the long, mauve boots, placing them next to each other in content simplicity. And from our lofty perch on the rooftop, we dove down, without a thought, to the almost carpet-like ocean beneath us. And thus we bequeathed ourselves upon the limitless reaches of the oceanic hands.

The plummet down was endless but so calm and peaceful. I looked over to Starfire. A serenity of the most majestic and dominant nature shrouded her worries in a veil of simple grace. Her eyes were closed, the tan skin of her eyelids shielding her wide orbs from the world of pain and loss. She had her arms out reaching to both sides, stretched out to their full capacity, reaching out to the pure hearts of the world. Her long, slim legs were pulled pin-straight behind her, tugged close next to each other. Her feet pointed perfectly straight, too, the heels aimed upwards and her toes straight and as aerodynamically positioned as her legs.

Her garnet colored hair streamed behind her like thousands of shiny, red ribbons and reflected the sparkle of the sun with effortless poise. The rounded, shorter hairs of her bangs framed the sides of her face, obliviously enhancing her delicate features.

I turned to face the oncoming sea below me, and I waited with eagerness until I heard the resounding echo of a splash as our bodies hit the water as the people of two separate worlds collided with yet another world—the simple marine world of the vast ocean that lay so unaware of the worry-riddled life around it.

But then again, when most of the world was this breath-taking pacific place, the ocean's vast expanses had little to say, simply, "Come on in, the water's great!"

And it was true.

I realized I was losing oxygen and I clambered up for the surface. Starfire still had yet to resurface so I waited with patience until she returned, breaking the liquid barrier with her head.

We giggled at the sight of each other—our hair plastered up against our faces, our skin glowing with that wet shine. A moment more of thinking deeply, and we each lunged forward and down for another date with calm cleanness unaware of the festering world of the people deprived of happiness.

I refuse to call happiness anything other than just that. Not "joy", not "pleasure", not "glee" or "bliss". Just…happiness.

With unfaltering relief my thoughts slipped away and left my mind void of pestering emotions and relentless thoughts. No, today, the onslaught of thought has yielded under the penetrating vision of the breadth of the churning sea.

I consent to the yearning to swim for the purpose of swimming only, and I allow my body to smoothly glide through the water, cutting through the flourishing waves with my figure.

Starfire and I finally bring our morning swim to a close, as the sky noticeably brightens, signaling the termination of the dawn.

We make our way to shore, and permit the foamy waves to tickle our feet as we squeeze the water from our hair. The constant 'drip, drip' of the water beads against the graying stone below allows the calm peace to continue. There is a melody, almost, to the way they crash against the ground, where even then, they trek onwards, where they drip past each rock and reunite with their home—the ocean. That bittersweet rhythm is so depressingly uplifting and beautiful; I find my breath hitch in my throat, trying not to disturb the unruffled silence required for these stirring performers.

"Raven?" Starfire's charming voice intrudes with a gentle kindness that I accept with a plain nod.

This is a difficult time in our lives. For all of us.

Arriving at the untimely plight of birthdays, all of which recently passed, we found ourselves at the current ages of 16, 16, 17, 18, and 19.

Star and Beast Boy—they were at the prime and blindly perfect yet fault-riddled age of sixteen.

Cyborg had officially passed the exam known as year eighteen with flying colors. That right of passage had allowed him to enter the stage in his life referred to as year nineteen, but that brought with it, new responsibilities.

Robin—he was now taking that wonderfully difficult year of eighteen; made almost to test if one can handle adulthood. That left me at the age of 17—sort of in between the two ages most commonly thought of as the "prime of life". I was stuck between those two important stepping stones, precariously hovering above the water, hoping to land safely on the next stone.

Yes indeed, we were all dealing with inconceivably difficult times in our lives.

So, as it has come to be, I have come to the rather abrupt decision that I will not fall into the water between the two stepping stones. Oh no, no, no, _I'm_ going to _make it_. Sometimes, loneliness is my only companion, but if that's what it takes to make it through, I'll deal with it. _I will **survive**_. The line is as unavoidable as it is clichéd.

Yes, there is a time in every person's life—human or no—where they must endure long, brittle hours of torture and inner turmoil before succeeding once more. This is a make it break it point of time in one's life, and I refuse to be swallowed down into the woeful and merciless pits of twisted, contorted fate where you are scoffed at and ridiculed by all of society. I will not fall into that horribly excruciating period of moments, counting them off with every finger, toe, strand of hair and fall into a ruthless state of wallowing and self-pity. No.

No.

No, no, no.

I will remain who I am.

I will stay simple and pure in my heart with a teetering, but determined path to victory.

And I realize that I am not the first person to have to search for a foothold on this rocky mountain climb upwards towards the heavens. In this home, I am actually the _third_. And having just exited this difficult point in life is…

…_Robin_.

And I realize something else, too.

I _forgive_ him.

And in that moment, I decide that my hair is as dry as I can get it to be at the moment, and so I fly back up to the rooftop with Starfire in tow.

And all the simplicity in the world has been restored and all is well again.

I will hold myself with equanimity.

**This chapter was kind of…weird, but I pretty much explained why Robin was so weird, but not very well, I guess. But if you let yourself think about it a little more than normal, you'll find out how descriptive it truly is. You'll see. **

**Til next time, **

**.Spunksterdawg. **


	9. Chapter 9

**Sorry I haven't updated. I'm falling in and out of writer's block. But mostly falling out. Hehe. O well…**

**I wud like to, once again, dedicate this to Mina, cuzza ur review. So THANKS again. (sorry, but this is probably gonna be the last chapter with ur review being worked into it. so as a almost, sorta, farewell gift, here: tosses a reeeeeeaaalllly biiiggg (w/e kinda cookie u like) cookie don't worry bout rationing, there's plenty more where _that_ came from wink, wink hehe, im soo retarded. Anyway, enuff stalling. ON WITH THE STORY!**

**Chapter 9: Encounter**

_And in that moment, I decide that my hair is as dry as I can get it to be at the moment, and so I fly back up to the rooftop with Starfire in tow. _

_And all the simplicity in the world has been restored and all is well again. _

_I will hold myself with equanimity. _

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX**

Steam rolled out in smoky, white puffs, cascading down in the heavenly foam of a waterfall of ghosts. They surged down like the tumbling rocks of a gently sheer and steep mountain. They poured out from the threshold of the door of Robin's personal bathroom. The door lay open; a portal into the steamy sauna the young hero had the fortune to hold for his own.

And so with an unnatural and demonic sweep of my cloak, I leave him the most pure and simplest of notes reading:

_Meet me on the roof._

On the purest, most simplest of white sheets of paper.

And with another flounce of my sapphire swathe, I turn tail and out the door, making sure to conceal the boy's privacy with a twist of the tiny knob on the lock of the control pad.

And that was that.

I would rather walk, so I traipse up the flight of stairs by foot, watching the blue cloth of my boots rather than shuffling through my mind for the 'right words'.

'Right words' were instantly forgotten at—and in the midst of—the scene and lay discarded like the old toy after a new one has been purchased. Discarded and forgotten, rubbish the moment something of new interest has been targeted. And so goes the story of life.

But I don't want to think right now. I need a clear mind for the undertaking ahead of me.

And so the contemplation subsides to annoying, but bearable murmurs.

Finally, in blank mindedness, I reach the door at the pinnacle of the building. I open the door labeled 'ROOF' and let it swing shut behind me; the greased hinges silently sliding shut.

I walk to the periphery of the roof, allowing a fraction of the tip of my foot to stick off hazardously. I let the cool breeze relieve my stressed body, allowing the gentle caress to ease the hood of my cloak free of my head and ruffle the indigo threads of my hair. I feel my cloak lift free of my leotard in the wind and then lightly settle back down again. I watch as even the cuffs of my leotard sleeves succumb to the delicate zephyr and dance to the silent melody of the whistling puff of air.

The sunset is slowly fading away; that celestial painter of the heavens splashing away with the crimsons and violets, mahoganies and ceruleans, allowing them to slowly mesh into the deep cobalt and heliotropes of ebony.

Thus the perfect time arrives and my apology has begun its pomp descent onto those that I seek forgiveness from—namely Robin.

And so the very Boy Wonder himself appears at the corner of my eye.

A wind, stronger than the previous, sweeps through his spiked mane, disheveling the pointed hair.

After a moment's pause, he walks to the edge of the roof where I am standing.

He faces the edge of the roof to stare at the glowing city below him.

I open my mouth to speak, but I am silenced by the sudden beeping of our synchronized communicators.

Robin pulls his own yellow piece of machinery and flips it open. Still staring at the piece of machinery, he steps closer to me, and knowing what he means, I wrap us in my ebony magic and we sink into the floor of the roof.

I reappear on the full carpeting of the main room where the other Titans have already assembled.

Robin's eager voice shoots out, "What's the situation, Cyborg?"

"Plasmus, Fourth Street!"

"Alright, Titans, GO!" And we all make our way out the door. As customary, Starfire carries Robin in her hands, Beast Boy, in the form of a pterodactyl, carries Cyborg atop his back, and I fly without any load other than my own weight. We take our path across the bay to the city in peril.

We make our way to Fourth Street, and Plasmus falls into sight instantly.

The volume of the screams of the frightened civilians increased as we drew closer to the scene. We arrived to the sight of Plasmus trying to drink the water from an exposed sewage pipe.

A single explosion disc makes its way to the sludge covered pipe, detonating on impact and sending the purple creature reeling backwards. The surprised monster stares first at its now empty hands and then to the Titans.

The irritated creature stretches one of its slushy arms at us, fingers balled into a fist.

"Titans, go!" And with that, the five of us dive our separate ways to dodge the oncoming punches.

Robin starts from one side of the huge creature, shooting his grappling hook onto a nearby building, then swinging down at the monster; steel-toed boots collide with purple mire. The kick is administered, and Robin releases the grappling hook, and then back flipping as to avoid a nearing punch. An extended arm tries to knock his feet out from underneath him, but he jumps and crashes down on the mauve-colored limb. A plasma-crab is formed and comes, pummeling, towards the colorful hero.

Cyborg's blue sonic cannon deftly crushes the crab-like creature, before relenting to attack Plasmus' main body. Plasmus creates a hole so the assault goes right through to the other side. Unwilling to give up, Cyborg shoots again, aiming at the head of the unlawful villain. Bull's eye.

"Boo yah!" But before Cyborg can truly cheer, a muck-covered Robin is hurled at him and the two collide.

Starfire shoots her starbolts from behind, successfully hurting the unsuspecting Plasmus. Starfire continues her volley of starbolts, progressively forcing him backwards and finally to the ground once more. The monstrous criminal gets up and turns around to swat at her, but I create a wall between Plasmus' arm and Starfire.

I take control of a close by lamppost, swinging at the monster. He simply sucks the metal up and spits it back out at the two of us, but Starfire catches it and, swinging it above her head first, throws it straight at Plasmus' face.

The impact causes him to fall backwards, where Beast Boy flies down from the skies, now in the form of a T-Rex. He stomps on Plasmus, before forming into a sparrow and flying out of the way of an approaching blow from the creature.

I take hold of a large truck and shove it roughly against Plasmus' body repeatedly. I throw it at his face, but he catches it and throws it back at me. I take control of it again, and use it to pull the monster's legs out from underneath him. Then, I drop the truck flat on his face, where it lands successfully. But he sucks it up into his form, his acid breaking it into pieces. He then violently spits the pieces back at me. I dodge a few, but a number of them crash against me, sending me backwards, first, into a metal lamppost, then, into a glass building, where several shards slice my skin. On wobbly legs, I rise again.

Cyborg runs up to the mucky villain, clutching Plasmus' leg and, being able to lift him, flings him against the hard, concrete pavement. But Plasmus kicks his leg into the air in mid-fall, causing Cyborg to go flying head-first into the brick exterior of Pizza Place. The force shakes the whole building, and several loosened bricks rain down hard on Cyborg.

Robin, however, is back up, and Starfire takes Robin in her hands once more, before dropping him onto Plasmus' back. Robin takes out his bo-staff and blows down strongly against the creature. Plasmus administers a blow to his head, causing Robin to fall to the ground. I encase him in my aura and put him safely onto the ground. I retrieve Robin's bo-staff and aggressively beat the monster, before dropping it in Robin's grip once again. I fly around Plasmus' face to distract him while Cyborg shoots continually at his unsteady legs.

Trying to reach back and punch me, Plasmus knocks an unnoticing Starfire to the pavement below. Beast Boy catches her in the form of a pterodactyl. Then, he goes and, forming into a stegosaurus, lands once again on top of Plasmus. Starfire pours her barrage of green starbolts at Plasmus' legs once he gets up, causing him to fall again. Beast Boy returns, swinging and thrashing about. Beast Boy's tail strikes Plasmus again and again. However, Plasmus grabs the swinging extension and hurls Beast Boy rigidly into the wall of a building, grabs him again, and throws him at Starfire, who catches him but falls to the ground below from impact. Leaving a dent in the ground, Starfire falls unconscious, but Beast Boy shakily gets up again, pulling Starfire out of harm's way.

Cyborg's cannon shoots out in every direction, making sure to avoid his friends. Several shots land on target, causing the tiring opponent to stumble backwards and land unceremoniously on his back. Robin, about to be buried underneath Plasmus, jumps up and out of the way, and throws a number of freeze-discs at the falling Plasmus. He freezes in mid-fall and the ice shatters when he lands, spraying shards all around.

I hurriedly drop the mailbox I was about to throw, to create a dome of magic above the team, myself, and several innocent bystanders. The ice pieces bounce off, and I allow the magic to diminish before retaking the mailbox and ramming it rigorously against the fallen Plasmus.

Wanting to finally end the battle, I take control of an enormous piece of debris, a reduced piece of wall, no doubt. I pull the enveloped debris over my head and then forcefully and vigorously hurtle the heavy concrete at the weakened opponent, instantly rendering the boy inside unconscious. No longer awake, the gooey purple muck diminishes and the unconscious boy falls into view.

Using my magic and Star's inhuman strength, we firmly wrap the comatose boy in a steadfast segment of metal railing.

The police force arrives at the scene of crime and drags the unawake boy into the back of their sturdy van. We watch as the containment vehicle drives down the road and out of sight. And we realized that the bumpy road isn't the only thing that had become worn out.

We stared at the mess before us.

Our favorite pizza place had several destroyed tables and umbrellas, and one of the Z's was lying on the ground, slumped over.

Cook's Electronics was battered, with a wide hole gaping open at us. That's probably where the piece of wall came from.

The sidewalk had numerous pits and many a wall had been ripped from the building it was a part of. The once-clean and even tar of the road was uplifted and slightly curled and rolled at the edge where it had been yanked out of the ground. The sewage pipe Plasmus had been trying to drink out of lay open, gushing filthy water out onto the pavement. The roof of one unfortunate building was caved in—the work of Plasmus. Dented lampposts lay wilted over, and some were severed completely.

More cars and trucks than we could count lay sadly staring at us. Some were flipped over in various positions, some were dented and broken, some were missing pieces such as a muffler, a tire or a windowpane. The vast majority of the vehicles had cracked and shattered windows. One of the cars had even blown up—luckily, no one had been inside.

A few people were trapped in a cage of torn metal fencing and some were still inside the building with the caved in roof. But the most of our worries came from the hulking water tower that lay precariously on extremely weak legs. One metal beam had been severed from the ground, leaving only three to support the heavy water container.

Robin sighed, and ruffled his hair between his fingers. We all looked at him, knowing, even though we were all tired, what he was about to say.

"Titans, let's help clean up. Search for anyone in danger and help them, then let's worry about the water tower. Titans," he sighed again, "Go."

And we all split up to check each building for people. Beast Boy went to the people trapped in between the fencing. Too tired to even morph, Beast Boy used his own hands to dislodge the framework from the ground. The relieved civilians ran out of danger's path when the metal was removed. Sighing, Beast Boy went to check the closest building.

Starfire went into Cook's and brought out one or two scared people, telling them to wait for the ambulance that had been called up to arrive. With bags under her eyes, she moved on to the next building.

Cyborg went to Pizza Place and got several worried citizens out of the building, tossing some umbrellas to the side.

Robin ran into a nearby house, pushing the inhabitants outside. Fire had been leaping in the fireplace, and the house seemed ready to explode, which it did a few moments later.

I went into the building with the caved roof. At first, I thought the place was empty. But then I heard faint sobbing, and I called out.

"Hello? Is anyone in here?" I paused and strained my ears, not even breathing so as to hear for any voices. I walked farther into the building, picking my way between debris. There were numerous segments of ceiling beams and columns lying desolately and dead. I picked up the pace. If there wasn't much holding this place up, it was sure to collapse soon.

"Hello? Hello, is anyone inside? Hello?" I walked around a destroyed set of stairs to a tiny room. The room was so small and scrunched up, littered with dirt, dust, and broken pieces of various things.

"Please, if you are inside, answer me. Hello? Is someone there?" A feeble support column shuddered and then cracked at the base before crumbling and falling to the ground in pathetic pieces. There was no light other than the faint traces of illumination from holes in the ceiling or the few tiny windows. Most were cracked or blocked by some sort of debris. I reached another staircase. However, this one was useable, but only enough for a small child. I tried anyway. I placed a foot on the first step. The entire frame shook, but held. However, another ceiling beam fell to the floor, and the force caused the stairs to finally fall apart in a heap on the floor.

A tiny gasp emitted from the top of the stairs, and I knew there must be a child up there. So I summoned whatever energy I could and levitated to the top landing. All the rooms were sealed shut. But what caught my attention was that they had been boarded shut by the owner of the place, not the fighting. All the rooms were boarded except for two. The first one, however, had all windows boarded up, and a large hole in the center of the floor.

That left the final room. The second room was dim, but bright compared to the rest of the building. I picked my way through more debris. The room was empty except for a small bed in one corner of the room. There was a pile of rubble scattered around the bed. But what I noticed was that there was a massive mound of heavy debris atop the bed. I made my way over to it. Conjuring up as much strength as I could, I pulled the first piece off. Then the next, and the one after. The pile then moved, and I then realized something.

There was a small child underneath.

With a sudden burst of adrenaline, I started pulling off the layers of rubble and wreckage.

"Hello? Can you hear me? Hello?" I don't think the child could breathe very well, let alone speak. So I doubled my efforts to heave the mountain of dirt off. Finally, the vast majority of the ruins were pulled off, and I could tell it was a little girl. She clutched a tiny cloth doll to her chest, and her eyes were wide open and teary. Even though I got much of the mess off of the girl, she wouldn't survive much longer at this rate.

So I sighed a deep breath, and tried to focus myself. Drawing up as much energy as I possibly could, I spoke in a soft tone, "Azarath, Metrion, Zinthos" My eyes took on their white glow, and I encircled the heap of dirt and lifted it off of the frail girl. Her tiny form began moving, her small body rising up and down in huge gulps of breath. The girl began crying, and I collapsed onto the bed next to the girl. She threw herself at me, and that motherly instinct took over. I pulled her close to my body—she was so small and fragile compared to me. I heaved her up into my arms and stood up. I melted into the ground and reappeared outside the building.

The others had already fixed the broken legs of the water tower, and were helping the ambulance workers push in the few severely injured people.

When I reappeared outside, Robin ran over to me.

"Raven!" he ran over to me, as I collapsed to my knees. The little girl, too, collapsed, weak from her close encounter with death.

"I'm fine, take the little girl. I'm just really tired." And he complied. He lifted the petite form into his strong arms and carried her to the ambulance. I watched as he handed the small girl into the hands of one of the ambulatory workers.

And then everything went black.

**Sorry this chapter stunk so much. This was probably my worst chapter. Uggh! Now I hate myself. The next chapter should be better. **


	10. Chapter 10

**URGENT NEWS URGENT NEWS URGENT NEWS URGENT NEWS URGENT NEWS URGENT NEWS URGENT NEWS URGENT NEWS URGENT NEWS URGENT NEWS URGENT NEWS URGENT NEWS URGENT NEWS URGENT NEWS URGENT NEWS URGENT NEWS URGENT NEWS URGENT NEWS URGENT NEWS URGENT NEWS URGENT NEWS URGENT NEWS URGENT NEWS URGENT NEWS URGENT NEWS URGENT NEWS URGENT NEWS URGENT NEWS URGENT NEWS URGENT NEWS URGENT NEWS URGENT NEWS URGENT NEWS URGENT NEWS URGENT NEWS URGENT NEWS URGENT NEWS URGENT NEWS**

**READ THIS: as many of u already know, Cartoon Network is cancelling the sixth season of Teen Titans. BUT I WILL NOT STAND FOR THIS! I wrote a letter to them, nd I'm writing a petition. HOWEVER, I know barely any people who share in my Teen Titan-ic enthusiasm to sign the petition. SO I need YOU GUYS to give me ur names (or made up names, but nothing like 'a person' or 'an angry fan' or anything like that) so I can write them myself on my petition so I have more signatures (cuz I don't know any of u guys—sob—and cant ask u to personally sign it…). SO! I need u guys to do that for me, so I can mail a signature-filled petition to them. **

**ALSO: I want u guys to mail them personal hand-written or hand-typed (eh?) to them with how u feel to this mutiny. **

**THE ADDRESS: Cartoon Network**

** 1050 Techwood Drive**

** Atlanta GA 30318**

**TELL 'EM HOW YOU FEEEEEEEEL!**

**_ALSO_ ALSO: if you know any STATS on Teen Titans, such as how many people watch it, what age most of the people are, how it's rated on TV popularity lists, etc., I would be EXTREMELY, BEYOND WORDS GRATEFUL TO YOU!**

**SO PLEASE, we are Teen Titan's LAST HOPE!**

**Spunksterdawg**

**p.s.—the next chapter is coming soon, I think, cuz I feel in debt to you guys for being so rude and ditching y'all. So THANKS! And PEACE OUT!**

**SUPPORT THE PROTEST SUPPORT THE PROTEST SUPPORT THE PROTEST SUPPORT THE PROTEST SUPPORT THE PROTEST SUPPORT THE PROTEST SUPPORT THE PROTEST SUPPORT THE PROTEST SUPPORT THE PROTEST SUPPORT THE PROTEST SUPPORT THE PROTEST SUPPORT THE PROTEST SUPPORT THE PROTEST SUPPORT THE PROTEST SUPPORT THE PROTEST SUPPORT THE PROTEST SUPPORT THE PROTEST SUPPORT THE PROTEST SUPPORT THE PROTEST SUPPORT THE PROTEST SUPPORT THE PROTEST SUPPORT THE PROTEST SUPPORT THE PROTEST SUPPORT THE PROTEST**


	11. Chapter 11

**This chapter is sort of random and out there, but it came to me as I tried to sleep, and I prayed that I would remember it in the morning and I did, and I wrote, and it felt so good. And I felt so alive. And I missed the reviews and I felt I could still salvage this story, as stupid and plot-less as it is. **

**Chapter 10: **

"_Raven!" He ran over to me, as I collapsed to my knees. The little girl, too, collapsed, weak from her close encounter with death. _

"_I'm fine, take the little girl. I'm just really tired." And he complied. He lifted the petite form into his strong arms and carried her to the ambulance. I watched as he handed the small girl into the hands of one of the ambulatory workers. _

_And then everything went black. _

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX**

Darkness.

Grayness.

White.

Color.

My eyes flickered before fully opening.

It took me a moment to absorb my surroundings. Okay, I'm lying on my back. I'm staring up at open sky. It's dark—night. The stars. They're _visible_ and so…peaceful. The ground feels bumpy, but so cool to the touch. My empathy kicked in and I realized I'm not alone. The team, Robin is here, too.

"Such a nice view." His voice doesn't startle me, but it surprised me. I turned my head to face his profile.

"Yeah. It is." And his face turned to meet mine. And the corners of my mouth lifted up.

And so does his.

"Robin, you look good tonight." And all in the world is right again.

And we both turned our heads back to stare at the celestial work of art above us.

"Robin, why are we lying in the middle of the street?"

"After we fixed some of the stuff, we were too tired to go back home. In any case, how're you feeling?"

"I'm fine, thanks." A pause as I tried to straighten my thoughts into coherency. "Robin, where is the little girl now?"

"You mean the girl you rescued from the building? She's in the closest hospital. Jump City Hospital. She's in critical condition."

"Oh.

"Robin, can we visit her?"

He turned his head to look at me, a look of curiosity apparent on his face. Thankfully, he didn't say anything about it.

"Sure."

I walked into the white hospital room labeled 241. I strode over to the only occupied cot. I stood at the foot of the bed silently asking the girl for permission. Her deep eyes studied me and I took the liberty of examining her as well. I had never really seen what she looked like—I had been too preoccupied trying to lift her from that pile of rubble.

I carefully scrutinized the small girl. Her deep brown irises had a goldish tint to them, and they were dotted with small golden specks. Her pupils, contracted from the bright florescent bulb, regarded me slowly and carefully. Our eyes locked for a brief moment before we each continued scrutinizing the other. Her hair, carefully shampooed since—yesterday, was it?—cascaded down, tumbling over her shoulders and rested neatly on her plushy hospital pillow. Her skin was a creamy white, and that, too, seemed to glow of gold. The starchy white blanket covered her form from the waist down, crinkling and crumpling with the shape of her body. Her hands lay gently folded in her lap. Even bumped and bruised and bandaged up, she radiated beauty.

Our eyes met again, and they seemed to nod, beckoning me to her side with serenity. I strode over to her bedside, suddenly self-conscious of my gait. I balanced myself, walking neither too quickly, nor too slowly.

I pulled down my hood the way one would remove their hat towards a superior. I felt like a college student waiting to be interviewed.

My eyes wandered over to the empty beds, set up with emergency supplies, and I wondered why the little girl's bedside table lay empty and neglected. My eyes then traveled to the sign outside her open door, reading "Critical Care Unit" in big black caps. I was in the right place, but then—

"My name is Lluvia."

"Huh—what?"

"Lluvia. It means rain in Spanish."

"Oh. I see. I'm Raven."

"I know. You're a Teen Titan. Everybody knows."

"Oh. Right."

I cold silence befell us, and I suddenly realized we were what we were.

Strangers.

I shuddered.

"It's nice to meet you, Lluvia."

"Ditto."

_Yeah, ditto._

"I know what you're thinking, Raven."

'_Yeah, ditto' ?_

"I guess you're an empath, too, then."

**"**You're not good with jokes, Raven."

"I know; I don't smile much, really."

"I guess the tabloids aren't all wrong, then."

"Yeah…tabloids."

"It's not you're fault, Raven. Things like this happen all over the world and there's no one to help them there."

"I know, Lluvia, but—"

"No, Raven, you _don't_ know."

I was startled by her sudden outburst, but it didn't get past my indifferent demeanor. So she continued.

"Few people do. It's good that you feel sorry—you should."

At this, my eyes widened just a bit.

"But don't feel sorry that I got hurt. Don't even feel bad that this had to happen. Because it did. It _did_ have to happen. Because of the world we live in, it had to happen. Don't feel sorry that people like Slade and Plasmus have to live. Don't feel regretful that people like you, and I, and Robin and Beast Boy and Starfire and Cyborg and all other good or innocent people can't always live the lives they deserve.

"Because the bad things make the other things seem good. And the good things seem bad.

"If someone lived a perfect life where everything always went according to plan and nothing ever went wrong, they wouldn't have anything to feel happy for. If someone led a life where nothing went right, where when some danger was lurking in every crack of every sidewalk pavement, they wouldn't have anything to feel sorrow for. But if someone lived a roller coaster life, then they could feel bad, and they could feel happy, and sometimes just plain indifferent.

"It's like…it's like hitting yourself with a ruler in the same spot on your arm, minute after minute, after minute. After hitting yourself so many times, your body gets used to it; you don't feel anything about it. It doesn't make a difference anymore. But if you hit yourself over and over, let it heal, and then a month later started hitting yourself again, it would hurt.

"That's what I mean, Raven. _That's_ what I truly believe."

"Lluvia, I—I don't know what to say."

"I don't pick any favorites in the Teen Titans. I admire all of you in your own way.

I admire your hidden openness. How you're so hard to figure out, yet so obvious, an open book. You don't try to hide your thoughts, and you support your individuality.

I admire Robin because he thinks he has no weakness, but it's that strength that makes him weak. It's rather amusing to see him pretend that he's invincible. But what I admire most about him is that you can actually believe him when he says it. Not the kind of believing where you're just trying to hide the inevitable—I mean the _real_ kind of believing.

Who I admire most, though, are people like Starfire and Beast Boy and Cyborg. They have such positive outlooks on life. They've been through a lot, too, Raven. Many people have. And yet…and yet they're so open to new ideas, so responsive to their search for happiness. In their blatant obviousness, they are hidden and ruffled, veiling their own dark pasts."

"But don't feel bad, Raven. They are like that, because they have nothing to fear of themselves. Well, not much.

But you do and—"

I struggled against my tears as I saw her choke and wheeze and gag and gasp and crash and burn as she coughed and coughed and coughed.

And then came the blood.

Oh, so much blood came spilling from her mouth. Pouring and pouring and raining bloody, red rain from her paled face.

And then I knew why she had no emergency gear.

There was nothing left to do.

Her tiny fists pounded repeatedly on the assistance button, and I sat there, struck dumb in horror as I watched her pull the covers closer around her and she knew and I knew and the nurse and doctor that ran into the room knew there was nothing to do.

The doctor did the only thing to be done. He filled a needle with a sleeping mixture, as any oral pills were out of the question.

And as the girl fell asleep in her anesthetic state, still coughing up a fountain of blood, I lifted her up from the bed, and the nurse solemnly dialed the cremation service.

Hanging up the phone, she filled another syringe with a clear, yet goldish liquid, and getting a slow but firm nod from the doctor next to her, she injected the frail girl with the concoction, her tears dotting my arms.

And I held that small girl in my arms and I watched as her breathing slowed, and her chest stopped moving up and down, up and down, and her blood kept spilling from her mouth and onto my hands but I didn't care as I hugged her tightly to my chest.

The blood.

Spilling.

Like a fountain, the blood.

Red rain.

Rain.

Lluvia.

Blood.

The blood.

_Her_ blood.

Her last blood.

Pale skin.

Jutting bones.

Cold skin.

So, so cold.

And red.

With her blood.

Cold and red and raining.

And,

Death.

**I'm actually satisfied with this chapter. It feels good to be back again, though I doubt it will last long. But please. Review. **


	12. Chapter 12

**If you've been reading the whole story, this chapter is probably really different from the rest, in respect to the fact that its been over a year since I wrote the last chapter and not only have my overall writing styles changed, but I as a person have, too. Like, dude, there was a point in my life where I would refuse to be anything other than a princess for Halloween and now the color pink physically hurts my eyes. And yellow. And really bright green. And pretty much my entire mindset has changed and although I have no fucking clue what label I am, the closest thing I would be is emo/punk/goth. Yeah, idk, either, you're not alone. But—oh, WAIT. I forgot, you don't **_**care**_** what societal label I am, now do you. I remember now, I was writing a story. Back to that, then. **

**Chapter 11: **_And I held that small girl in my arms and I watched as her breathing slowed, and her chest stopped moving up and down, up and down, and her blood kept spilling from her mouth and onto my hands but I didn't care as I hugged her tightly to my chest._

_The blood._

_Spilling._

_Like a fountain, the blood._

_Red rain._

_Rain._

_Lluvia._

_Blood._

_The blood._

_Her__ blood._

_Her last blood._

_Pale skin._

_Jutting bones._

_Cold skin._

_So, so cold._

_And red._

_With her blood._

_Cold and red and raining._

_And,_

_Death._

**Dude, I claim the right to take away the fact that x's and o's equal hugs and kisses. I now deem them skulls and crossbones. XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO**

It was all over, she was dead. I barely knew her; I never would. She was a stranger, she was a nobody, she was small and insignificant and weak and fragile and if you were to hold a gun to her head you would be able to see the fear in her eyes. She was young, she was innocent, she was honest, she was empty, she was full, she was nothing and no one and unimportant and life would go on whether or not she was there going on with everyone else.

And yet she was everywhere, she plagued me, haunted my dreams and inundated my conscience with guilt and grief and despair and just go. Look up all the synonyms for sorrow on dictionary dot fucking com because honestly that would be a lot easier than naming every terrible feeling that wracked my petite frame. my entire mindset shuddered with empty sobs, dry eyes and dry cheeks and no salty taste in my mouth where the tears all collect, but a heart heavy with rainy tears, rainy blood; bloody rain. Lluvia. Oh, oh, red rain; rainy, rainy red.

And I wish Edgar Allen Poe was here to string my thoughts into something beautifully corrupt and broken and so filthy with sorrow that it couldn't be anything but powerful and woe is me because I can't find the words, cant find a payphone to call Robin, can't find the willpower to use my telepathy and he's so far, far away that I feel as though I've lost him, too.

And _God_, this fucking _hurts_ because that's what death does to a person—rips your heart out, wrings it until all the dying blood and the new blood mix together and its all just a brownish-red slush and then feeds the dried up carcass to hungry dogs. And all you can do is watch the teeth of the hounds tear away at something that used to be yours and oh god, oh god, oh my fucking—veins are severed, stuck between molars and I don't think I could ever joke about spinach being stuck in someone's teeth ever again, because this little girl just turned my heart into a freaking _spinach omelet_ and that is not now, nor will it ever be flattering.

A little girl that was a stranger, a nobody, a small, insignificant, weak, fragile, young, innocent, honest, empty, unimportant person that would fucking _cry_ if you held death to her head, loaded, cocked, trigger ready, safe-guard down the freaking _drain_. Rain. Lluvia. She was everywhere and nothing I do does really anything to help.

Not that I've really tried to do much yet. But I'm Raven. I'm a Teen fucking _Titan_—the emotionless one, the apathetic one that couldn't give a shit whether or not you were the saddest heap of limbs in the world, the one bleeding her heart out to dogs for some girl she didn't even know.

The culmination of something so big and so wrong and yet so inevitable tore away at me but you can only lose so much blood before you pass out. I wanted to cry, wanted my mask to crack and crumple and curl away under moistened salt because I had failed and I had let someone die. In my arms. I let someone down—how can anyone trust me anymore? I can't even trust myself to hold back the tears because the public eye is everywhere and yet it seems so insignificant next to the way that some girl named after weather could make my knees buckle and my head spin.

I feel like I'm going to wake up tomorrow with a hangover, without even at least having the fun of being drunk.

And I'm clearly sober, despite the fact that I'm fucking high on the depressants my body has released within myself and—can you OD on your own body's natural defense system? God I hope so, because this was a new kind of pain I had never experience before.

I felt so…strange.

Like I had just witnessed a new part of life that as much as you wish you could just ignore it, you just _can't_.

Because it's physically impossible for human beings to grasp the concept of utopianism.

And, god, I'm not even human, but I feel so weak and vulnerable and so utterly incapable of holding back the emotions that I usually numb down so easily. And if that's not the telltale mark of a human then you can start calling me Starfire and let me run around in obscenely short skirts. No, really, I'm serious. Because when you're in shit this deep, you can't _not_ be serious because for Christ's—someone just _died_. Someone I could've saved, someone that deserved to be saved—someone that was maybe more human than everybody else just died and after the Cremation Service is done with her she'll be physically gone, too.

I'm so confused. I feel so utterly broken and just plain empty without all its connotations and implications and underlying subtexts and I'm just so empty. It feels like where my, let's say liver, should be, there's this gap and apparently as of now I'm liver-less and I feel like I'm about to die because of it. But I don't even deserve that much.

Because I. Let. Someone. Die.

And there was so much more I could do.

And yet, I feel like I just fulfilled another part of my life, completed another mandatory task needed to conclude my life. I feel blessed to have met this girl and I feel honored and I almost feel like I don't deserve it, but I know now that I had met someone truly beyond their years. Lluvia. There's something almost royal or majestic about the way her name rolls off my tongue and out into the confines of my mind and even Nevermore can't handle that much and it's just a word so intense that it needs to roll off my tongue into a place much broader than just my mind, some place in all its grandeur that—

"Lluvia."

"Yes, dear? Did you say something?" asked an elderly nurse. Her white, almost translucent hair did nothing to compliment the chalky pallid rubber of her forehead—and yet even she seemed more important than I did, I had to hold some kind of awe and respect for her: someone so withered by age and troubles and burdened by worries and fears and swollen with inflated joy handling everyday the sick, sad patients of the hospital. Her white hair and white skin and white outfit with the matching white shoes and hair blended in with the white walls and the white tiled linoleum floor and the white ceilings and white fluorescent lights that I wasn't completely unfathomable in my wondering if she, too, was dead. Or on the verge of death. Either way she came back to _this place_ everyday to try and inspire hope in others despite the possibility of nagging tensions within her own mind—forced to fake a smile with enough mastery to pass it off as a genuine smile and make others, in turn, smile back.

"No. Yes—I'm sorry to bother you, but would you show me to the nearest payphone?"

She gave me an understanding smile as she realized that I had held Lluvia as she had bled into my arms.

Which was kinda obvious by the drying brown stains and the way they caught and reflected white lights _oh _so well. She pointed out the closest PAYPHONE sign, indicating towards the white piece of plaster jutting out of the wall, wearing a black telephone symbol on it. Dark black contrasting bright white—standing out, tall and proud for all to see and—yeah, now I'm getting just a bit too emotional and I have to take several deep breaths before I start making profound metaphorical connections between life and death and everything within a 20 foot radius of me.

It took me a moment to remember why I was standing in front of a payphone—something that under normal circumstances I would never have needed. Maybe I was a bit inebriated, after all.

I dialed the familiar digits of Robin's cellular phone, which I had come to love due to its eternal services and the fact that it was practically glued to Robin's hip.

I waited for it to ring, and when the _"The number you are trying to reach is currently unavailable. If you wish to leave a message, wait for the beep."_

Beep.

Came, I just sighed deeply to clear my mind which was already becoming cloudy again with the thoughts I couldn't fight off.

"Hey, Robin. Uhm..hi. I-I'm at the hospital. I'm at Jump City Hospital, visiting Lluvia. We…talked. She's really nice and very unique and, she's something completely different, and oh god, uhm."

Sigh.

"Sh-she died, Robin. She's..She…in my _arms_, Robin—she died in my _arms_, and I-I held her as she died in my arms and I'm just so. Yeah. You probably get it, I guess. Just, I figure my minute or so to rant is almost up, so just…just wait up for me to get home; don't try to contact me, I just need time to think and..stuff. Just wait up for me, okay? I, uh, I-I. I love you, Robin. I'll see you at home. Bye."

I placed the phone back in its cradle, its long coil jangling around before settling back into quiet placidity. The soles of my boots seemed to clank loudly in the quiet halls until I neared the busier and louder entrance hall.

Everyone here is wearing one of two colors: black or white, and I feel very conspicuous, in my dark blue cloak. I feel as though everyone is watching me; my every move, every step, every blink, breath, the way my fingers clutched pathetically at the him of my cloak, pulling it closer to my body, hiding the bloodstains as though I had murdered her. And it felt like I had, too. I pulled my hood up over my head, taking a deep breath and closing my eyes briefly, taking a moment to pull myself the fuck together. I exhaled sharply, feeling my own breath against my chin and when I opened my eyes again everything was so much clearer, so much steadier and it felt like the violent tremors that had previously possessed my spine were, at least for now, gone; at least for now, Nevermore had shut up; at least for now, I could find the strength to make it back home before the I remembered the fact that I was scared shitless.

Oh god, so, so scared.

Never before had I been so scared before. I didn't even know _why_ I was scared, I just knew that I was and that I was in desperate need of meditation, my tea, _Robin_—anything to keep my mind from wandering back to the life that had ended. And for once in my life I couldn't get all the thoughts to just _go away_ like they had done countless times before, and for once in my life I had never been so eager to put them all away, put them all aside, shove them back somewhere far, far behind my eyes. All I wanted to do was go crawl into a hole in the middle of nowhere with tea, my mirror, and Robin and maybe never come back out, because my little foxhole in the ground was so much warmer and cozier than the bombshell-littered world waiting outside.

And yet I couldn't be more anxious to get out of that hospital, out those glass doors and maybe wash off this filth that is suddenly everywhere and all over my hands and crisping all over the front of my uniform.

I stepped out into the dimming light, finding solace in the sun's slow descent. I was fine just watching life move on without me, without the Teen Titans, able to function on its own without the help of five teenagers.

What an achievement, right?

I couldn't help but love this city, though, in all its industrialized, polluted air. Even with its oozing monsters and scheming villains, people managed to go about their lives as normally as possible, managed to raise a family, make friends, and go out on Friday nights with a couple of high-on-life college roommates.

My mind just a little bit clearer, and the world just a bit humbler, I could now slowly make my way back to Titans Tower.

Make my way back _home_.

And frankly, I would keep the blood that flows in my veins pumping that much harder for the blood that no longer flowed in Lluvia's.

And I was okay with that.

**Fuck! No matter how hard I try, I can never write very much. Oh well. Idc enough to do anything about it. This is NOT the last chapter, but either the next one or the one after that will be. Um…I'm not creative enough to think of a better AN than that, so w/e.**


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